


Hogwartvengers: Year Three

by orphan_account



Series: Hogwartvengers 'Verse [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hogwartvengers, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts AU, Hogwartvengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last two pivotal members of the Hogwartvengers gang arrive; one a little more reluctantly than the other. And, as puberty begins for our elder members, love is definitely in the air. Sort-of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is finally off to Hogwarts, and his only goal is to stay as far away from that stupid brother of his as possible. Thor doesn’t approve of this plan.

Loki kept his hair over his face as he walked down the platform, his trunk trailing along behind him. His pace was quick, so as to put as much distance as possible between himself and his family, and he didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. All around him families were making happy yet tearful goodbyes, but all Loki wanted to do was get as far away from his family as possible. “Loki, aren’t you going to say goodbye to Mother and Father?” He sighed at the loud voice, wondering if Thor would ever learn the meaning of volume control. Turning, he gave his brother a cool stare, raising an eyebrow.

“Goodbye, Mother and Father,” he said simply, briefly glancing at his parents before turning back to the train again. Before he could board it, however, a large hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Brother, please,” Thor murmured, his blue eyes earnest. “Can you not just be civil for ten minutes?” Loki sighed, scowling, though allowed the blonde third year to direct him back towards their parents. His mother’s lips were pursed, and his father was frowning at him. 

“I’ll see you at Christmas, I suppose,” Loki told them with a sigh, standing stiffly while his mother hugged him around the shoulders. He doubted they’d allow him to stay at the castle for the holiday. 

“Good luck with your sorting, dear,” Frigga murmured. “And do try and make friends.” He scoffed; like that was going to happen. When she released him, Odin clapped him on the shoulder.

“Do the family proud, son,” he said, his voice just as booming as his son’s. Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes; he’d not done the family proud once in his life. They weren’t even _his_ family. 

“May I go now, _brother_?” he asked waspishly, and Thor gazed at him sadly. 

“If you must. I’ll come find you after the feast,” the older boy assured, making Loki grimace as he turned away, dragging his trunk towards the train. He’d much rather Thor went off with his stupid Gryffindor friends and didn’t bother him after the feast. Hoisting the trunk onto the gleaming red engine, he found the nearest empty compartment, wishing he knew a locking spell; he didn’t want to be disturbed. Still, no one bothered him while he sat on his own with his nose in a book, and eventually the train began to move.

Several hours went by, and Loki happily sat in his peaceful compartment, reading a book on rare magical creatures, wishing his mind would stop straying to considering what his brother was getting up to. He _didn’t_ care about Thor. There was a loud slamming noise, and he looked up in alarm as his compartment door was wrenched open and a small dark-haired girl rushed inside, shutting the door again with an equally loud bang. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” he exclaimed, glaring at the girl who had interrupted his reading.

“Hey, dude, chill, I just need to hide out here for like, ten minutes,” she insisted, unceremoniously stretching out on the seat opposite him. She was already dressed in her uniform, scruffy as it was, and her plain tie told him that she was a first year, like him. Joys.

“And who gave you permission to do so?” he retorted icily. She snorted, seemingly unfazed.

“Who said I needed permission? You don’t own the train,” she told him. “Also, you might wanna get dressed, we’ll be there soon.” Loki glanced down at his black jeans and green sweater, then over to the satchel containing his uniform. 

“I can’t very well do that with you in here, can I?” he pointed out with a scowl. “Who are you hiding from, anyway? Surely you can’t have made enemies before we’ve even arrived.” She flushed, looking sheepish.

“I may have, uh, tasered this guy. But he was freaking me out! Really loud and waving his arms all over the place. Smoking hot, though,” she added, smirking. 

“Did he happen to have shoulder-length blonde hair and a Gryffindor tie?” Loki asked knowingly, already feeling a headache building. The girl nodded, brow furrowed.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I believe you just tasered my brother,” he told her flatly. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’, and she blushed.

“Really? Crap, sorry, but like I said, he freaked me out. And it wasn’t even really tasering, it’s this spell I learned from this really cool book. Still, sorry dude.” Loki laughed, surprising her.

“By all means, don’t apologise; the great brute deserves a good shock every now and then. All the better coming from someone like you,” he added, eyeing her up. She folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

“What do you mean, someone like me?” she snapped defensively.

“A girl. And a small one, at that,” he explained nonchalantly. She paused, then smirked once more.

“Yeah, I did kind-of own his ass. I’m Darcy, by the way.”

“Loki,” he replied, making her eyebrows shoot up.

“Dude, your name is _weird_ ,” she declared. “I like it.” Before he could say anything, she jumped up from her seat, peering through the window in the compartment door. “Looks like the coast is clear. I’ll catch you later, Loki.” Before he could even say goodbye, she raced out of the compartment as quickly as she’d entered, leaving Loki alone once more. He stared after her, then sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. 

“My bloody luck, we’ll end up in the same house,” he muttered under his breath, getting back to his book.

.-.-.

Loki was quite sure he was the only one in the gathering of first years not worried about being sorted. Whichever house he was in, he’d end up disappointing someone, so he hardly thought it mattered. Besides, there was really only one option for him. He followed the crowd into the hall, determinedly not looking over at the Gryffindor table where his brother was sat with his friends. He hoped to any gods that were listening that he wouldn’t end up there. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand it.

Only half paying attention to his yearmates being sorted, he squared his shoulders when he heard the shout of “Laufeyson, Loki!” from Professor Selvig. Stepping up to the stool, he sat down and placed the hat on his head.

‘ _Ooh, well, you are an interesting one, aren’t you?_ ’ the hat whispered in his mind, and he felt shivers down his spine. ‘ _Destined for many things, though whether great or terrible has yet to be decided. Not quite a Ravenclaw, definitely not a Hufflepuff…_ ’ Loki felt alarm grip him at the only two choices left.

‘ _Not Gryffindor,_ ’ he pleaded desperately, gaze flicking finally to his brother, who was watching intently. ‘ _Don’t sort me in the same house as him._ ’ 

‘ _You’re awfully quick to scorn him, young man. Do not forget, he thinks of you as a brother, and your coldness surely pains him. But if you’re certain, I suppose there’s no convincing you._ ’ There was a pause, before the hat yelled ‘SLYTHERIN!’ for the hall to hear, and Loki let out a sigh of relief even as Thor’s face crumbled in disappointment. Loki pushed away the slight stab of pain he felt at the sight, taking the hat off and walking to join his new housemates as his uniform changed colours. It surprised him when the girl from the train, Darcy Lewis, was called immediately after him. She sauntered up to the hat seemingly without a care in the world, and there was several minutes of silence as she apparently argued with the piece of sentient cloth. Eventually, however, the rip in the brim opened, and the hat bellowed ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’, causing a satisfied smirk to creep across Darcy’s face. Loki’s brow furrowed; she was definitely one to watch out for. A snake in badger’s clothing if he’d ever seen one.

He didn’t bother trying to speak to his fellow Slytherin first years — of which there were four — nor anyone else at his table during the feast, eating very little and slipping away without notice. At least, he thought he hadn’t been noticed. “Loki, wait!” He groaned under his breath at the call, turning to see Thor jogging up the corridor after him.

“What are you doing here, Thor? Surely you can’t have eaten enough to satisfy that horrendous appetite of yours,” he remarked, but Thor’s step didn’t falter.

“Steve is saving my seat,” the blonde explained. “I said I’d see you after the feast.” He paused, then offered a tentative smile. “Slytherin, hmm? You’ll do well in there, I’m sure.”

“Why, because I’m a manipulative little sneak who can’t be trusted?” Loki sneered acidly. Thor blinked, looking hurt.

“Of course not!” he protested, offended that Loki would even think he’d have that opinion. “Because you are cunning, and unafraid to do what you wish to reach your goals.” Loki snorted internally; how very untrue that was. “I’m proud of you, brother.” Even as he spoke, Loki remembered the look on his face when he’d been sorted, and how they didn’t match up with his words now.

“Spare me the platitudes, Thor. And if you’ll excuse me, I should retire for the night.” Thor grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking away.

“Why are you registered as Laufeyson?” Thor asked, voice somewhat hollow. Loki winced; of course that wouldn’t have gone unnoticed.

“Because it is my name, as much as Odinson is yours.” Thor took a step closer, towering over the younger boy.

“It is not your name anymore, brother,” he began, but Loki stepped back, glaring.

“ _We are not brothers,_ ” he hissed. “No one must know we are related by adoption. No one.” Thor frowned, looking perplexed.

“But why not? There’s nothing shameful about it.” Loki laughed bitterly; of course, there was nothing shameful about it for Thor. He didn’t have to deal with being the family disappointment. 

“You’re a Gryffindor, Thor, and I’m a Slytherin. No one would believe us anyway, and I wouldn’t want to taint your _reputation_ ,” he added dryly. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone. Swear to me that no one will know of our connection. As far as you’re concerned, I’m just another Slytherin.” He couldn’t stand it if he was known as ‘Thor Odinson’s brother’ all through his Hogwarts career, as he was everywhere else. He needed to make a name for _himself_.

Thor didn’t look pleased, but bit his lip. “If I swear to it, will you stop running from me when I want to talk?” he asked hopefully. Loki sighed; it was an acceptable compromise.

“Deal.”

“Then I swear I shan’t tell anyone we are brothers. Because you are my brother, Loki, whether you like it or not.” Before Loki could protest, Thor wrapped him in a tight hug. “You’re my brother, and I love you. There needn’t be blood between us to make that true.”

“Go back to your Gryffindor friends, Thor, before dinner is over,” Loki replied, determinedly keeping a blank expression even as Thor looked so very pained.

“Goodnight, Loki. Pleasant dreams.” Loki turned back down the corridor towards the dungeons, not glancing back to check if Thor was leaving, and wondered why his chest felt so tight. Stupid brothers.


	2. Hawk Amongst Owls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint likes the owlery. It’s high up, has a great view, and it’s peaceful if you don’t mind the owls. He never expected anyone to find him up there, least of all Phil Coulson.

It was the one place in the school where Clint could pretty much guarantee no one would look for him. Besides, he liked it there; it was peaceful, high up, with a great view, and fairly quiet if you didn’t mind all the hooting and screeching. Yeah, the owlery was quite easily one of Clint’s favourite parts of Hogwarts. Balanced precariously on a beam in the rafters, Clint stared out of the high window, smiling at the harris hawk perched beside him. He didn’t know whose hawk it was, but it came and sat with him every time Clint went there. “Hey, buddy,” he greeted softly, reaching out with gentle fingers to stroke the bird’s feathers. “How’s it going?” The hawk cocked its head at him and bobbed, making Clint grin. “That good, huh?”

Taking his hand back as the hawk ruffled his feathers, Clint sighed to himself, chin propped on his knee. He was sure he hadn’t missed home at the beginning of his first year as much as he did now, starting his second. Probably because he’d been so intent on making friends and exploring the school, he hadn’t had time to think about it. Now, however, he already had his friends, and he doubted there were many parts of the school he hadn’t yet found. He had nothing but homework and hanging with Nat to keep his mind off everyone back at the circus. It didn’t help that he could feel himself getting antsy; his limbs were twitching in anticipation, and the extra energy was flooding through his body more than he could stand it. He wished there were somewhere he could set up a basic trapeze rig to get some of the tension out of his shoulders. He was even tempted to take up quidditch, just to get the rush of flying, but he wasn’t too good with team sports.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Clint hooked his knees around the beam and swung back down in order to watch. His eyebrows rose when Phil Coulson wandered into the owlery, his uniform pristine as always. He brought his fingers to his lips and made a soft whistling noise, and Clint watched the harris hawk lift off the beam beside him, swooping down to land on Coulson’s arm. That’s who the hawk belonged to? Somehow, it fit; the bird was just as proud and neat as its owner. Clint watched Coulson attach a scroll to the hawk’s leg, scratching it behind the ear before letting it lose, watching his bird fly out towards the Forbidden Forest. Expecting the older boy to leave, Clint was surprised when his fellow Hufflepuff leaned against the window sill. “Y’know, Barton, hanging out up there could be considered a breach of personal privacy. Not to mention damn dangerous.” Clint nearly fell off his beam in shock at the voice.

“How the hell did you know I was up here?” he called back, disgruntled. Coulson’s head tipped up, amused eyes meeting Clint’s. 

“Your tie is bright yellow, genius; you’re a little hard to miss,” the older boy retorted. “Now get down here, I’m getting a crick in my neck just looking at you.” Clint smiled, easily pushing off his beam to a lower one, swinging further and further down until he landed lightly on his feet, throwing in a few flips just to show off. That was another thing he loved about the owlery; the placement of the beams was the best place in the castle to do some acrobatics, he just had to watch out for splinters. Coulson’s face was blank, though Clint liked to think there was a slightly impressed look in his eyes. 

“No one else has ever noticed me up there. Not even with the yellow tie,” Clint told him, and Coulson gave him a look.

“How often do you go up there?” he asked, surprised. Clint shrugged sheepishly.

“Few times a week. Your hawk likes me,” he added with a slight smile. Coulson chuckled, shaking his head.

“Knew the little bastard was warming up to someone; you’ve been giving him owl treats,” he accused, no malice in his voice. Clint flushed, nodding. At least that was the hawk’s gender confirmed.

“Only a couple,” he said hurriedly, but Coulson’s lips twitched.

“He’s getting fat,” he muttered reprovingly. 

“I can stop, if you want,” Clint offered apologetically. Coulson shook his head, smiling a little wider.

“It’s fine, I’ll just give him more work to do. Mom and Dad will probably appreciate it,” he mused with a shrug.

“What’s his name?” Clint asked, both out of curiosity and to distract Coulson from asking why he was hanging from the rafters.

“Sitwell,” Coulson replied shortly. Clint frowned — that was a really weird name for a bird — but didn’t say anything. “So how come you spend so much time up in the rafters?” 

“I like heights,” Clint replied evasively. Coulson didn’t look convinced, and Clint shrugged. “Seriously, it’s nice up there. My, uh, circus name is Hawkeye.” His eyes went wide after he spoke, and he wondered where the hell that admission had come from. He didn’t tell _anyone_ about the circus, ever.

“Nice. That just involve nesting and acrobatics, or what?” Coulson queried, surprising Clint with the lack of judgement in his tone.

“I’m one hell of a sharpshooter, too,” Clint added, proud. “Best with a bow, but… give me something and tell me to hit something else with it, and I guarantee I’ll be dead on.” Coulson chuckled, smirking.

“Impressive. How long have you been up there? Did you even eat dinner?” Clint frowned, checking his watch. Damn thing had stopped again.

“Wait, it’s past dinner?” Coulson sighed, grabbing him by the shoulder of his jumper. 

“By an hour. Come on, let’s get you something to eat, stupid brat. I’ll even let you in on a little secret,” he urged, practically dragging Clint from the owlery. Clint allowed himself to be directed down the stairs, smiling. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually cared about whether he’d eaten dinner or not.

“If your big secret is the location of the kitchens, I’m sorry but I beat you to it,” he informed the older boy, who gave him a look of disapproval in response.

“Of course you did.”


	3. The Appearance and Disappearance of Pepperony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After overhearing some rumours, Tony re-evaluates his relationship with Pepper. Turns out, he needn’t have bothered.

Tony sighed, biting his lip as he tried not to be too obvious in his eavesdropping. “I heard he’s taking her to meet his dad over Christmas break.” This statement prompted a round of hushed giggles from the girls, and Tony’s eyebrows shot up; how did that get around? 

“I think they’re really sweet together, y’know? Even if he is kind of a jerk. He’s Tony Stark; Pepper’s done well for herself,” a Gryffindor girl in the group remarked, making Tony smirk despite himself. 

“Pepper? Please, Tony’s the one who has it made. She practically runs his life for him anyway,” a Hufflepuff pointed out. Tony smiled; that part was definitely true. He listened as the girls changed subjects, discussing the guys in their year who were actually single, and wandered away when he concluded he wasn’t going to get anything useful out of the conversation. Hands in his pockets, he headed back to the Ravenclaw common room, deep in thought. Was he missing something? Maybe the kids who had started the rumours were onto something; dating Pepper would be great for him. She looked after him, kept him organised, and if they dated not only could he spoil her with presents without being asked for an ulterior motive, he could kiss her. Kissing, from what he’d heard from some of his friends, was awesome. Tony hadn’t actually kissed anyone yet, not wanting the press to find out when he actually did, but he thought he’d like to.

He was glad when he found Bruce in their dorm, reading a book on his bed. Tony hopped onto the opposite end of the bed, not waiting for an invitation. “Do you think I should date Pepper?” he asked conversationally. Bruce glanced up from his book, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, should you?” Tony hummed, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I mean, everyone seems to think we’re together anyways. I like Pepper, Pepper’s awesome.”

“She is,” Bruce agreed, attention back on his book. 

“Maybe I should date Pepper. I mean, I’m awesome, she’s awesome, it’s a match made in heaven, right?” Tony reasoned, poking Bruce’s ankle when he didn’t get an immediate response.

“Don’t you think Pepper should have some say in this decision?” the werewolf pointed out, making Tony grin.

“Honeybear, you are totally right. I’ll ask her in the morning.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Bruce’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce replied evenly, still reading even as Tony got off his bed, heading to his own. Frowning to himself, the Ravenclaw shook his head, getting back to his book. “Did I even do anything?”

.-.

True to his word, Tony found Pepper at breakfast when she came to remind him of the Herbology homework he had to do. “Do you wanna go out with me?” he asked abruptly, making her raise an eyebrow. 

“Excuse me?”

“You. Me. Dating. Yes or no?” Pepper scoffed, perching on the bench beside him.

“Is this a joke?” she queried, reaching for some toast and eggs to put on his plate to balance out the small mountain of bacon. “Tony, I’ve told you a hundred times, you can’t just have bacon for breakfast.”

“That plate full of bacon right there says I can,” he retorted, gesturing to the serving plate he’d gotten his food from. “And no, I’m not joking. Go out with me; there’s a Hogsmeade weekend this week, I’ll take you somewhere nice.” There had to be somewhere date-worthy in Hogsmeade, it was pretty much the only place the students could go. Pepper blinked, staring at him incredulously.

“What brought this on?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Just had a thought. Come on, say yes? I promise there won’t be any crazy stunts or pranks involved.” Pepper sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” she agreed, making him grin.

“Fabulous.” Pepper pulled out the planner she had for Tony, and that, apparently, was the end of that.

.-.

Tony met Pepper in the entrance hall that Saturday at nine, and smiled when he saw her; she was in tight-fitting jeans and tall black boots, a pretty green sweater making him realise that yes, she definitely had curves. “Hi,” she greeted, smiling shyly, and Tony felt nerves curling in his stomach. It was ridiculous; it was only Pepper.

“Hey,” he replied, offering a grin in return even as he felt his palms grow clammy. “Shall we?” She nodded, falling into step beside him as they went outside, starting on the long walk to the village. “So, uh, I thought we could go to Honeydukes or something, and then maybe just have a look around and then have lunch at the Three Broomsticks?” he told her, amazed at how much he was tripping over his own words. “You look nice, by the way.” Her smile brightened, and she gave him a once-over.

“You clean up pretty nicely, too,” she teased. “Sounds like a plan.” Shoulders almost touching as they walked close together, Tony wondered if he should hold Pepper’s hand. That’s what people did when they dated, right? “So how’s quidditch going? First game in a few weeks, you nervous?” Tony grinned; quidditch was a safe subject. He could talk about quidditch.

“Pepper, sweetcheeks, you should know; Starks don’t get nervous,” he told her, making her laugh. “I think we’ve got good chances, though. And I’m not just saying that because I’m on the team.” After a suggestion from Pym about channelling his energies into something a little less intellectual, Tony had tried out for the quidditch team at the beginning of the year, surprising himself by making seeker. “The rest of the team are great, and Gryffindor are all really young this year. Hell, rumour has it they’ve got a second year on their team.” Regardless of the fact that Barnes was built like a fourth year, he was still only twelve.

“Hey, don’t knock Bucky, he’s pretty good,” Pepper defended, making him raise an eyebrow.

“Since when was he Bucky to you?” he asked skeptically. She shrugged, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’m friends with Peggy Carter, and she hangs around with Steve Rogers. Bucky and Steve come as a package deal,” the redhead explained, and Tony let out a small noise of comprehension. He knew about Bucky and Steve — Thor still kept an eye on Steve, and was sort-of friends with him, so he’d heard all about them — but he hadn’t known the two boys were friends with Peggy. 

“Cool. And he might be ‘pretty good’, dear Pepper, but I can guarantee we’re better,” he added with a smirk. She laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Sure you are,” she placated, making him pout. 

They reached the village, heading straight for Hogsmeade, and Tony impulsively grabbed Pepper’s hand as they entered the crowd of students. She looked surprised, but didn’t pull away, and Tony grinned. Success. Dragging her towards some of the more weird and wonderful sweets, Tony let his eyes scan the shelves, looking for something he hadn’t tried before. Grinning at some gruesome-looking bug-shaped sweets, he picked them out, only to hear Pepper groan in disgust. “You’re not seriously going to eat those, are you?” she asked, and his grin widened.

“Variety is the spice of life, honeybunch. Give me those, I’m paying,” he added, gesturing to the pack of sugar quills in her hand. She sighed, but didn’t argue, knowing better by now. He had to let go of her hand to pay, and neither of them were quite brave enough to take the other’s hand back once more. Bag in hand, they left the packed shop, and Tony glanced sideways, wondering what the hell he was meant to do next. “Should we… walk?” he suggested. Pepper nodded, and they set off with no particular destination, the silence between them stilted. “We should be doing something. I feel like we should be doing something. Should we be doing something?” Pepper blinked, looking at him askance. 

“We are doing something. We’re walking,” she pointed out. Tony rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Something date-y. What do people do on dates, anyway? I feel like I should be giving you flowers and taking you dancing, or something. Or buying you things.” Pepper scoffed, shooting him a warning look.

“Don’t do either of those things and you’ll be just fine,” she assured, shuddering at the prospect of either flowers or dancing. “And you are buying me things, you bought me the quills. But I don’t have any idea what people do on dates any more than you do.” Tony frowned, then took Pepper’s hand in his again. People definitely did that on dates. 

“Well… what do you like to do? I’ve known you over two years and I feel like I barely know anything about you,” he said, feeling slightly sheepish. Pepper laughed, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“That’s because you don’t ask,” she pointed out dryly.

“Wow, I suck,” Tony declared, making her laugh harder. “Come on, tell me, what do you like doing? What’s your favourite colour? Tell me everything.” Pepper rolled her eyes, but obliged, and Tony mentally congratulated himself on giving them something to talk about. Pepper was happy to talk about herself, and Tony tried his best to listen, brain only straying to mechanics a few times. He startled when there was silence, and looked around, realising that they’d walked away from the village and Pepper had gone quiet, her hand hot in his. 

“I’ll never get over how amazing the scenery around here is,” she murmured, and he hummed in agreement. Pepper turned to face him, growing ever closer, and his breath caught in his throat. Was she going to kiss him? Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leant in, lips slightly pursed. Heart pounding, Tony met her halfway, lips pressing tentatively to hers. He held it for a couple of seconds, expecting something incredible to happen, but all he got was a vague feeling of uncomfortableness, and wondered when he could pull away without offending her. Well, damn.

Pulling back, he hoped the frown on Pepper’s face meant she hadn’t seen fireworks. “Was that…”

“Really weird?” he finished for her, and she nodded, letting out a relieved laugh.

“Oh, thank Merlin it wasn’t just me. Why was that so weird?” Tony snorted, giving her a look. 

“You think I know? God, it was like kissing my sister, and I don’t even have a sister. It shouldn’t be weird!” Pepper sighed, taking his hand back and squeezing gently.

“Maybe we’re just not meant to date? I don’t even know why you asked me out, anyway.” 

“I overheard some people talking,” he explained, leaning into her side. “They thought we were already dating. I guess I thought maybe they were onto something. Why did you say yes?” Pepper shrugged.

“Thought it might be fun. I was totally not expecting the major awkwardness.” They both fell silent for a long moment, before Tony turned to the redhead.

“How about we just pretend this never happened, write it off as one of my stupid ideas, and go see who we can meet for lunch at the Three Broomsticks?” he suggested, making Pepper grin.

“That, Mr Stark, sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.”


	4. Learning to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony saves Steve from being beaten up by Slytherin fifth years. Steve is grateful, until Tony starts teasing him. Still, at least he means well.

Tony had his nose buried in his book as he walked through the empty corridor, dictating rapidly to the quill and parchment bobbing along beside him. It was easier to get his essays done like that so he could spend more time working on his own things in the evenings. He paused when he heard a shout, brow furrowing. “Finite,” he murmured, catching his quill and essay before they could fall to the floor. There was another shout, and the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and Tony immediately detoured in the direction of the noise. Turning a corner at a near-run, he stopped in his tracks when he saw the source of the shouting. Two burly Slytherin boys he vaguely recognised as fifth years had cornered scrawny Steve Rogers against a tapestry, and Steve already had bruises. “What the hell is going on here!” Tony snapped, drawing closer to the trio. Both Slytherins turned, eyes going wide when they saw the Stark heir.

“Just showing Rogers here who’s boss,” one of them drawled, and Tony scowled.

“Pick on someone your own size, he’s three years younger than you!” he retorted, standing protectively in front of the Gryffindor. “Walk away, or I’ll have you expelled.” From any other third year it would’ve been an empty threat, but he was Tony Stark, and his father was on the board of governors. The two boys shared a look, then glared at him, but obediently turned to head back up the corridor. When they were gone, Tony turned to Steve, frowning in concern. “Are you okay? Merlin, you’re a mess,” he muttered, gently grabbing him by the jaw in order to study the bruise on his cheek.

“I’m fine,” Steve insisted, wincing at the touch. “I’ve had worse.” Tony scowled.

“That doesn’t make it okay. Damn, Rogers, those guys were twice your size. Don’t you know how to run?” Steve shrugged, then let out a hiss of pain at the motion. Tony immediately reached for the boy’s shoulder, rotating it experimentally. He’d injured himself enough times to know how something felt when it was out of place.

“They were picking on first year Hufflepuffs. A little girl had hexed one of them, some kind of electric shock spell, and they didn’t seem impressed. I couldn’t just stand there and watch them beat up little kids, Stark,” the blonde explained, making Tony snort, shaking his head.

“You damn Gryffindors are all the same,” he muttered, and Steve grinned, apparently taking it as a compliment. “But I can see where you’re coming from. Come on, let’s take you to McCoy; I don’t like the look of that shoulder.”

“I’m fine!” Steve repeated. Tony raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest.

“Rogers, you already look like a strong breeze would snap you. That guy’s hand could crush a kid like you. Hospital wing, now.” Grasping Steve’s good shoulder, Tony steered him down the corridor in the direction of the hospital wing. “Where’s your shadow, anyway?” It was rare to see Steve without Bucky Barnes in tow, and Tony was beginning to understand why.

“Quidditch practice,” Steve explained, one eye slightly squinting as his bruise began to swell even more. 

“Oh yeah, he made chaser didn’t he?” Barnes was the youngest member on the Gryffindor team, but was apparently very good. Ravenclaw got to play Gryffindor first, so Tony figured he’d see how good Barnes really was then. “How come you’re not in your common room?” Steve shot him an annoyed look.

“I didn’t think it would be such a problem for me to walk around on my own. I don’t need a babysitter,” he insisted, making Tony snicker.

“Sure you don’t. And you would’ve been totally fine if I hadn’t come and rescued your ass,” he teased. Steve scowled, cheeks going red.

“I don’t need rescuing! I’m not a little kid!” Tony glanced sideways at him, eyeing him appraisingly.

“I dunno, you _are_ kinda small,” he mused. “Cute, though. No wonder Peggy’s adopted you.” Steve’s blush grew brighter, making Tony grin.

“Peggy hasn’t _adopted_ me, it’s called being friends!” he protested. Tony smirked, wondering if there was a little crush there on Steve’s part. He wouldn’t blame the kid; Peggy Carter was hot. She’d already shut him down three times, though, and Tony didn’t fancy trying for a fourth.

They entered the hospital wing, and McCoy looked up, sighing when he saw Steve. “Another fight, Mr Rogers?”

“Another?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised. “Is it like, a regular thing for you to get beaten to a pulp?” Steve flushed, ducking his head.

“It happens every couple of weeks or so,” he admitted in a mumble, hopping up onto a bed so McCoy could examine him. Tony stayed, even as Steve stiffened uncomfortably when McCoy vanished his shirt to get a better look at his shoulder. The boy’s chest was thin and pale, though he had the flattest stomach Tony had ever seen, and the Ravenclaw could easily count Steve’s ribs. Damn, how was he even _alive_? “You don’t have to stay, Stark. I’m in safe hands now,” the blonde prompted, grimacing in pain as McCoy prodded at his shoulder.

“I dunno, maybe I should stick around, walk you back to your common room. Wouldn’t want you getting jumped again on your way back,” Tony joked, then offered a smile. “And it’s Tony.” Steve blinked, surprised.

“Sure, Tony. Then stop calling me Rogers; my name is Steve. You can stick around if you want, but I might be a while. Healer McCoy likes to keep me for as long as possible,” he joked with a grin to the Healer, who rolled his eyes.

“Yes, well, it keeps you out of trouble. Though seeing as you clearly have plans, I suppose I’d better let you go,” he remarked, and Tony grinned when Steve’s cheeks reddened. McCoy found the Gryffindor a new shirt, and Steve shrugged it on gingerly, using a spell to get the buttons. Shuffling off the bed, he offered a tentative smile to the Ravenclaw. 

“Don’t you have stuff to do?” he queried as they left the hospital wing. “You always seem to be busy; you don’t need to walk me back if you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

“I’m all yours,” Tony promised. “Nowhere else to be but here.” That wasn’t technically true — he’d said to Bruce he’d be back at the dorm by seven — but what Steve didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Tony was intrigued by a guy who was so tiny and fragile, yet willing to get beaten up regularly to defend people. He was either ridiculously stupid, or the very epitome of a Gryffindor.

Steve smiled slightly, looking pleased by the answer. The walk back to Gryffindor Tower was somewhat awkward, neither of them knowing what to say, but luckily it was only a short one. “Now, can I leave you here and not have to worry about you falling out a window or getting punched in the head by a seventh year or some shit?” Tony asked with raised eyebrows, stopping outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. Steve flushed, offering a small grin.

“I’ll stay in the tower, promise. And keep away from open windows,” he added, making Tony laugh.

“Good choice. I’ll catch you later, Steve. Just scream in a girlish manner if you ever need my dashing hero self to save you,” he teased. Steve scowled, punching him in the arm. 

“I am _not_ a girl, damn it!” he argued, before glancing sideways somewhat shiftily. “D’you think you could, y’know, leave so I can say the password and get in?” Tony snickered, deeply amused.

“Seriously, you think I don’t know it already? Felix Felicis.” The Fat Lady huffed, but obligingly swung open, and Steve spluttered.

“I… how?” 

“Thor,” Tony said by way of explanation, making the blonde groan and shake his head. “Go on, scurry off into your tower, little lion. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you around, Tony,” Steve replied, hopping through the portrait hole. It closed behind him, and Tony winked at the Fat Lady, turning to walk away. That was his good deed done for the day; he even got rewarded with the sight of Steve’s bare chest. He smirked to himself, wondering what to tell Bruce. Merlin forbid his friend think he was capable of doing something _nice_ for someone.


	5. Ever the Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes a breakthrough, and Bruce is sent to go drag him out of the lab. He’s just in time to witness the success

Bruce was concerned.

Of course, being Bruce, ‘concerned’ seemed to be his general state of being, but he was especially concerned. About Tony. Who hadn’t been to class, meals, or anywhere else for three days. 

Bruce knew exactly where he was — in the potions lab that had been informally declared ‘Tony’s lab’ — but usually Tony surfaced for air and food once a day. Maybe he’d finally convinced the House Elves to start bringing him food in his lab. That or he’d blown himself up and none of them knew yet.

“I haven’t seen him, Professor. You know how he gets; he’ll rip my head off if I interrupt him in the middle of something this big,” he explained to Professor Pym, who was also concerned. For Tony to have shut himself off for so long, it had to be something huge.

“I know, Bruce, but I still want you to go check on him. He’s missed three days of classes, and the rest of the professors are worried about him. If he’s going to let anyone into his cave, it’ll be you,” Pym reasoned. Bruce’s lips twitched in a smile at the word ‘cave’, hoping Tony didn’t ever hear him say it. He didn’t want him turning it into some super secret lair any more than it currently was.

“Sure, I’ll go find him. But I can’t promise to drag him out; if he’s onto something, he won’t let me interrupt him.” Pym waved him off, nodding.

“Oh, I know, I know. If he’s onto something, I wouldn’t want you to interrupt him. Just make sure he hasn’t killed himself down there.” Bruce snickered, and his head of house dismissed him. Setting off towards the dungeons, Bruce walked quickly, hoping Tony was fine. Surely the House Elves would’ve alerted someone if Tony was hurt? 

The corridors were fairly empty on Bruce’s journey, most people in their common rooms or still at dinner, and Bruce found the quiet somewhat disorienting. Everything had been far too quiet for three days; it was strange, not having Tony babbling on about science and magic, or making snide remarks and jokes during class. He missed his friend. But at least Tony had waited to do his research until after the full moon, there in the hospital wing the morning after with a bacon sandwich as he always was, ready to help Bruce get back on his feet. Bruce appreciated it.

Stopping outside the door to Tony’s lab, he snorted at the crudely drawn ‘Do Not Disturb: Science Happening’ sign tacked to the door, complete with picture of ‘science’ — Tony electrocuting himself, by the looks of things. Knocking anyway, he leaned in close to the door. “Tony, it’s me!” he called, hoping his friend hadn’t soundproofed the room. “Come on, let me in, it’s just me!” There was silence, then a loud explosion, before Bruce heard coughing.

“It’s open!” Tony called, and Bruce nudged the door open, eyebrows shooting up when he saw the inside of the room. The floor was practically one giant scorch mark, and there were endless rolls of parchment stuck to the walls, all covered in calculations in the manner of Tony’s holographic interface back home. Tony himself was stood in the midst of it all, an engine block in front of him, and with only one eyebrow. There was a gravy-stained plate on a bench in the corner, which at least set Bruce’s mind at rest. “Bruce, man, you have got to see this. I think I’ve done it,” Tony urged, rushing over to grab Bruce by the wrist and drag him towards the engine block. 

“Done what?” Bruce asked, perplexed, but Tony merely pointed to the engine block, letting Bruce go so he could pick up his wand from the floor. With a murmured spell that Bruce couldn’t quite catch, the engine roared to life, and the werewolf’s jaw dropped.

“Oh Merlin, have you…?” Tony turned to him, beaming, a slightly manic glint to his expression that betrayed his lack of sleep.

“That, my dear Bruce, is a completely mechanical engine running on 100 percent magic. I’ve done it. I’ve created the spell that’s going to bridge the gap between the muggle and magical worlds that little bit more, and make the Stark Industries board members cream themselves with glee. And I did it totally without dear old Dad’s help,” he added proudly, puffing out his chest. Bruce grinned widely, bringing his friend into a tight hug.

“Congratulations,” he murmured, ignoring Tony’s grease-stained clothes and less-than-pleasant smell after three days without showering. “I knew you could do it.” Tony pulled back, dragging Bruce over to the parchment on the walls.

“Look at it, Bruce, isn’t it beautiful?” he pressed, gesturing towards the messy scrawls of notations. Bruce didn’t understand most of it, but what he did comprehend was incredible. 

“Wow, Tony,” he murmured, duly impressed. “Are you going to owl your dad about it?” Tony’s expression immediately shut down, and Bruce winced. Wrong question, apparently.

“No,” Tony replied, shaking his head. “I’ll compile my notes and send everything straight to the Department of Spellcraft and Patenting. They can patent it under my name, and that of Stark Industries, and then Howard can’t take credit for my work like he does with every damn thing I make ever.” The billionaire grinned mischievously. “Boy, he’s gonna be _so_ mad. I can’t wait.” Bruce smiled slightly, feeling guilty for being happy for Tony getting one up over his dad. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“That can wait,” he pointed out. “You’ve finished, you’ve made the spell, you’ve tested it. Compiling and owling the Ministry can wait until you’ve had sleep. And a shower; you reek.” Tony pouted, though his eyes were bright.

“Am I offending your poor wolfy sensibilities?” he asked playfully, and Bruce nodded emphatically.

“Yes. Now come on.” With a wave of his wand, all of the parchment flew off the walls and into a neat stack, which Bruce gathered and slid into his satchel. A quick ‘finite’ made the engine lifeless once more, and Bruce led Tony from the room, the Stark heir automatically raising the wards he kept up when he wasn’t in the room. “Let’s get you back to the tower, then you can sleep after you’ve showered. Class is out, so you’ve got nothing to do until tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, classes,” Tony murmured, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him when he was locked up in his lab. “Bed does sound good, though. Have I missed much?”

“Not really, but I made class notes for you anyway,” Bruce assured him, smiling. Tony grinned at him, briefly pressing his cheek to Bruce’s shoulder as they walked.

“You’re the best,” he declared firmly. Bruce merely smiled, making sure Tony stayed walking in a straight line. They eventually reached Ravenclaw tower, and Bruce solved the entry riddle easily, nudging Tony through past the statue. The common room was fairly full, but everyone was now used to seeing Bruce dragging a zombified Tony through, so no one paid them much attention. 

“Is he okay?” Jane called, concerned, and Bruce offered her a grin.

“He’s fine, just needs sleep. I’ll explain everything tomorrow; he’s done something huge,” he added, making her smile widely.

“Awesome. Goodnight, Bruce.” With a wave over his shoulder, Bruce, urged Tony up the stairs to their dorm, laughing when the other boy collapsed face-first on his bed.

“Come on, you. Shower, now. You’ll feel better,” he insisted, poking Tony’s shoulder. Tony groaned, but obeyed, heaving himself up and into the bathroom. Hearing the shower turn on, Bruce kicked off his shoes and smiled to himself, scrawling out a quick note to Professor Pym that he sent by spell, assuring him that Tony was fine and out of his lab.

Tony re-emerged wrapped in a towel with wet hair, and Bruce shoved pyjamas at him, nonplussed by his friend’s nakedness. After sharing a dorm for two and a half years, you kinda got used to it. Dressed and clean, Tony fell back into bed, and Bruce sighed in exasperation, moving to shift the genius under the covers properly. “Night, Bruce,” Tony mumbled, already half-asleep. Bruce chuckled, smoothing down the damp curls on Tony’s head. His hair was going to be ridiculous when he woke up in the morning. 

“Night, Tony.” Backing away but leaving the drapes open so he could keep an eye on his sleeping friend, Bruce grabbed his Charms book and parchment notebook, preparing to write his essay, glancing over at Tony every few minutes. He may be a genius, but he was pretty stupid when it came to listening to his body. Bruce wouldn’t have him any other way.


	6. Personal Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve thinks Peggy is pretty damn perfect. Shame she doesn’t feel the same way.

In the opinion of Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter was perfect.

He didn’t share this opinion with anyone else, of course — he knew it would only get him bullied and teased even more — but in his private thoughts, he marvelled over how such an incredible girl would actually want to be friends with him. He was nothing special; there were so many other guys she’d be better off spending her time with. The other Gryffindor girls laughed at her for hanging around with ‘the shrimp’, but she took no notice of them, and Steve kind-of loved her for it.

She’d come out of nowhere, in the beginning. He’d been sat alone in the corner of the common room doing homework, wishing Bucky hadn’t decided to go hang out with that Hufflepuff in their year, Rhodey. Bucky was way better at Charms than he was. “Need some help?” He’d looked up at the voice, eyes going wide at the sight of the pretty brunette girl approaching him. She’d had a bright smile on her face, and sat down beside him without invitation. “You look confused, I was wondering if you need a hand?”

“Uh, it’s fine, you don’t have to,” he’d stuttered. “I’ll figure it out eventually.” She’d laughed, reaching across to tug his textbook towards her.

“Oh, don’t be silly; I’m happy to help. Charms is my best subject anyway. I’m Peggy, by the way; Peggy Carter.” She’d held out a hand for him to shake, and he had, offering a tentative grin.

“Steve Rogers,” he’d replied, and that had been that. Peggy had stayed and patiently explained the spell theory to him, even when her friends tried to call her over. Steve had been taken from the very start; she was fiercely intelligent, and witty, and didn’t make him feel like a little kid. 

After his homework was finished, he’d expected that to be the end of it, and for her to disappear from his life once more. He was surprised, however, when she’d asked if he wanted to join her and her friends for a while. Steve knew Peggy’s friends — it was hard not to know Thor Odinson, he was so loud he could probably be heard all the way in Slytherin — but he didn’t think he’d spoken to any of them but Sif, who was in his classes. Peggy wouldn’t take no for an answer, and that’s how Steve found himself hanging out with the group that were widely known as the coolest kids in Gryffindor’s lower years. 

Bucky hadn’t believed him when he’d told his friend what had happened, and it had taken Peggy coming to sit with him at lunch for the taller boy to realise he was telling the truth. He’d been duly impressed, and Steve fiercely embarrassed as soon as he and Bucky were alone and the teasing began. He’d insisted there was nothing between them, but even at that point he’d known he was lying. 

Their friendship continued, and by now it wasn’t unusual for Steve to hang out with any of the older Gryffindors in the common room. He very rarely did so without Peggy there, though, feeling slightly awkward without the brunette girl around to buffer. In the meantime, Steve did everything he possibly could to impress her, though he tended to have… less than stellar results.

He wasn’t handsome, he knew that. He wasn’t even attractive in a quirky way, or pretty-boy attractive; he was scrawny, and pale, and looked like a hug would snap him. Peggy, on the other hand, was beautiful. Her hair was always perfect, she looked amazing even in the plain school uniform everyone else wore, and she always had a smile that lit up her whole face. Steve just wanted that smile to be given to him as much as possible; if that involved making a fool of himself to make her laugh, so be it. He’d tried playing quidditch, once; just a friendly game on a borrowed school broom with Bucky teaching him the basics. Peggy had joined in, and Steve had tried so hard to look good in front of her he’d ended up unconscious in the hospital wing. But hey, it had ended up with Peggy staying by his side until he woke up, so it wasn’t all bad. 

His grades weren’t brilliant, though they weren’t terrible. Peggy was in the top five in her class in every subject — which, when you took into consideration some of the people in her year, was impressive. His attempts to show her how smart he was usually ended up with her running circles around him and him left in the dust. He couldn’t really think of much else; he didn’t have any talents. Yeah, he could draw, but… he wasn’t very good. 

He sighed to himself, leaning back against the headboard and glancing down at his sketchpad, seeing Peggy’s smile looking back at him. If he allowed himself, he’d sometimes imagine going home for the summer and having a huge growth spurt, coming back tall and muscular and attractive, and catching Peggy’s eye. He knew that would be the only way to have her look at him like that. It wasn’t likely, but a guy could dream. And he didn’t mind just being friends, not really. She was great, and funny, and smart, and just generally fun to hang around with. He was sure his crush would fade with time; he was only twelve. Everyone else in his year and the year above seemed to be stuck on a different person every couple of weeks; he’d already lost count of the amount of girls Bucky had declared the ‘love of his life’. 

Speak of the devil; Steve looked up when the dorm room door swung open, and Bucky trudged in with his broom over his shoulder, sweaty from quidditch practice. He grinned at Steve, and his gaze grew knowing as he saw the drawing, bringing a faint flush to Steve’s cheeks. “Again? Man, you have it bad for her! Why don’t you just ask her out?” he asked, tossing his broom on the bed and sitting down to unlace his boots. Steve shook his head frantically, offering Bucky a small half-smile.

“Nah, you kidding me? Girl like her would never go for a guy like me,” he said, chuckling slightly. Carefully adding some finishing touches to his drawing, he shut his sketchbook, sliding it back into his bedside drawer. He could deal with just being friends.


End file.
